Pink reminded me how urban cities like Delhi browbeat working women

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I’d put off watching Pink but tonight I felt brave enough to go watch it. It’s not perfect, but it doesn’t need to be. It makes its point well enough.

And for the first time, I do think we needed Amitabh Bachchan, known for ensuring his daughter-in-law was first married to a tree before she embraced the family name, whose presence on any kind of media I find myself allergic to, and who, reportedly, is upset that Aishwarya has steamy scenes in a film, where she plays a character, and not his daughter-in-law. Not to mention the staring. How much does this man stare?

via CatchNews.com

Yet, when Amitabh spoke, like in his interview with NDTV’s Ravish Kumar where he pointedly summed up the movies message: NO means NO,tThe nation took him seriously. They flocked to the cinema, they discussed “his” message the next morning by the office coffee machine. So perhaps, mansplaining might actually be of some use. 

via The Independent

via The Independent

Even at their very best, Indian movies have continued to portray sexual violence against women as something that happens in rural areas and small cities by strangers and Goan gundas. But, Pink reminded me of the urban India, of cities like Delhi that browbeat single, working women into submission, overtly and insidiously.

Of the colony-wale who have different standards for their families and for the girls who return home late at night. Of the gutless wonders it breeds who will think nothing of cracking rape jokes at house parties. Older men who want to be your lovers but without the “drama”, please. Landladies and wives who lack empathy, compassion, possibly, because they are victims of patriarchy, too. Aren’t we all?

Pink reminded me of February 14, 2004, when I spent all night talking a man I was seeing out of raping me. For all these years, I’ve come to believe that it happened to somebody else. And that for the longest time, I believed it was my fault. That somewhere, I still wonder if it was my fault. But it is not. I said no. And that should always be enough.

Note: This piece was first published on Anushree’s Facebook account. 
Anushree M
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Anushree is a writer and currently works as a Special Correspondent for Indian Express, Mumbai. In her own words, she is "mercurial, effervescent, convivial. Nasty, brutish and short. Also fat. Rabid anti-national." You can find her on Instagram as @princessbatcheat.

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